


Little Blue Book

by Bayyvon



Category: Rock of Ages (2012)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 19:34:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bayyvon/pseuds/Bayyvon





	Little Blue Book

Constance sits up in bed, pulling her wild hair into a low slung ponytail. She watches Stacee sleep, his tattoo'd chest slowly rising and falling with his heavy breaths. She loved watching him sleep, as weird as it was. It was the only time it seemed as if his demons left him be, and weren't clawing for his attention all at once. Constance smiles softly, pulling her notebook from under their bed, and fishing her pen from somewhere deep in her curls, and writing down her thoughts, what she saw, her feelings. It was such a habit; something she did every morning. If someone were to stop her from doing it now, she wasn't sure what she'd do. She's about three pages in, when Stacee makes a gutteral moan, telling her he's awake, but isn't quite ready to be. The blonde girl quickly tucks away her pink pen, stuffing the blue notebook back under the bed.

* ~ *

"Stacee?" Constance questions as she comes in.

"November twenty-second, nineteen eighty-seven. . . ."

She hears him begin, speaking softly.

"Stacee, no!" Constance drops her bag, running into the living room, where Stacee holds the notebook in his guitar calloused hands, pacing as he reads aloud. 

His eyes flick up to hers for a moment, and holds the book higher when she jumps up to grab it. He looks like he's generally interested, and he steps up onto the table, his boots, and the thick glass giving him a 6 inch advantage over her. Not that he didn't already tower over her, but it made a difference.

"There's a soft line of orange sunlight trickling in through the half-assed drapes above our bed. The quiet light exposes strips of Stacee's pale skin, and ragged tattoos he'd gotten god knows when, with god knows who, the rest of his breath taking body hidden under bunched up black velvet comforter. His chest rises and falls with his ever deepening breaths, and god is he gorgeous. . . Small pieces of chestnut colored hair are falling over his cockeyed navy blue bandanna that never seems to leave his head, some of the hair long enough to fall into his face, over his closed, usually piercing grey eyes, unusually long lashes flashing small shadows across his cheeks. His lips, a deep pink, larger than they were yesterday. This is going to sound a little bit strange, but I like to watch Stacee sleep. He seems at peace with his demons, and the war with himself has momentarily stopped for a few sparing hours." 

Stacee begins to pace again, across the small rectangular table. "I'll never quite understand what drew me to Stacee Jaxx. So god damn beautiful. My eyes trace from his odd hairline, down his hair hidden forehead, his closed eyes, sharp cheek bones, defined jawline. The light begins to filter even more and more through the drapes, and I'm giddy. This is my favorite part of the day. I watch the light wash over him, slowly, like a coming and going ripple on the shore of a lake. My rock god. It's a nice thought sometimes, Mine. That pale light making Stacee paler than he already seemed to be, and I bite down on my lip. His neck is craned at an uncomfortable angle, and his shoulders are hard, and defined, and I lightly reach out, run my fingers along them, resist the urge to lean over, wake him up." Stacee looks up, over the pages at her with varying emotions playing across his features.

"His arms are large, but there's comfort in that thought. He holds me tightly, sometimes, after a repressed memory makes it's way to the surface of his head, and claws at him. Wounds him. I just sort of lean over, cradle his head, and run my fingers through his hair. He stirs slightly, and rolls onto his back. I swear, sometimes I can feel every chiseled muscle in his abdomen when we're chest-to-chest, bare skin to bare skin. When his guitar calloused fingers hold me, keep me in place as he kisses me breathless, what he's doing to me elsewhere making it hard to do anything else but mewl and beg and want and need. I watch as his V-lines disappear beneath the blankets, and I'm sort of thankful for it. I lean over, pressing a kiss to his temple, my free hand holding his face, hearing him make a disgruntled noise, like he's awake, but doesn't quite want to be yet, and I smile. My Stacee. So perfect." He ends, dropping the notebook onto the floor, leaving Constance to pick it up hurriedly as he flops onto the couch.

"How did you find th-"

"Why didn't you tell me any of that?"

"I- uh.... I don't know." Constance admits, looking up at her boyfriend from her knees, where she's gathering scattered papers.

"Did you not want me to know, Constance?" He asks, a heartbroken expression clear as day written all over him.

"No! No, no no." Constance fumbles over her papers. "I dunno, It's just... I guess I just.... I never thought you'd be interested" She pauses, adding softly, "Those notebooks are like my diary, Stacee."

Stacee huffs as he pushes himself off the couch and settles on his knees next to Constance. He lifts her chin with one hand, the other cupping her cheek. "I love you, you know that right?"

"I know." The blonde woman nods. "I love you too."

"Good." Stacee gives her a lopsided smile, something she's used to seeing. It's soft, and endearing and she really wants to kiss him. As if reading her expressions, which he was actually quite good at, he breaks out in a full fledged grin and brings their lips together.


End file.
